


Cereal with Wine

by notjealouseve



Category: Grey's Anatomy, Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cristanelle, Crossover, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28131480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjealouseve/pseuds/notjealouseve
Summary: Killing Eve x Grey's Anatomy CrossoverVillanelle gets shot and Cristina Yang saves her life. Villanelle spends some time at the hospital as Cristina's very cheeky and flirty patient, during which Cristina slowly learns Villanelle's (former-to-be) career and they develop some sort of bond-trust, almost-until one day Villanelle disappears.Three months later, Villanelle shows up at Cristina's door, and that's where this story starts.Cristina lives with Callie in that blue-door apartment. After Burke, before Owen. Everyone's alive.It's based on the series of one-shots I posted on my IG: @totallynotjealouseveIt's probably better to take a look at them to get the set-up of this fic (you can go to the posts from the story highlight!).
Relationships: Villanelle | Oksana Astankova/Cristina Yang
Comments: 67
Kudos: 196





	1. Cereal with Wine

Villanelle shows up at her door and walks into her apartment as if she’s been here many times, though she halts when her eyes spot the wine and cereal on the low table in front of the couch.

“Cristina. Were you eating cereal with wine?”

“I was having dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“Shut up, _Villanelle_.”

It feels funny to finally, actually, utter her name, which she still finds pretty ridiculous, after rolling it over and over in her head for the past three months. 

But she’s here now. In flesh. Villanelle.

With a quick glance at the younger woman in the eclectic, hippie-like outfit, who’s still eyeing the box of cereal and wine glass on the low table disapprovingly, Cristina turns away and walks purposefully to and around the counter to pour a glass of wine for the unexpected guest. She isn’t exactly trying to be a good host. She just needs to buy some time to digest the fact her former patient, who apparently is, or at least was, some sort of professional killer, who was a huge pain in the neck of a patient, and who relentlessly flirted with her while being that and yet one day disappeared completely just as she thought some kind of trust was being established between them, is back and in her apartment.

She doesn’t know what to feel. Happy that she’s back? Angry she disappeared and didn’t contact her for three months? Annoyed by the surprise visit? All of the above?

She takes a glass from the cabinet and turns around to reach for the wine bottle on the counter, only to nearly bump into the taller girl, now her soft blonde hair and hazel eyes visible with the stupid wig and glasses off, who has silently sneaked up like a cat to right behind--now in front of--her. 

“What the--” Cristina blurts out, gripping the wine glass that almost fell off her hand, but before she can finish her sentence, Villanelle leans forward and presses their lips together, her hand gently but firmly holding the back of Cristina’s head.

For a moment, Cristina’s mind completely freezes. She doesn’t even realize she’s closed her eyes nor that her free hand almost automatically reached up and grabbed the soft fabric of the other girl’s silly orange top. The kiss is surprisingly soft and deliberate, as if to test the waters. Villanelle’s other hand slowly slides down the side of her body, sending shivers up her spine, and rests on her hip, as her tongue gently brushes Cristina’s lower lip, and it feels so right, and so good, she could just let herself carried away--

“Wait, no, wait. What are you doing?!” 

Cristina gasps, opens her eyes, and pulls away from the kiss, though she doesn’t let go of the other girl’s shirt. It’s a miracle her other hand is still holding the wine glass. 

Villanelle blinks with a curious, very innocent look on her face. 

“I was kissing you. You didn’t like it?”

“No! No, I mean, no, that’s not what I meant--”

“I told you you would like it.”

Villanelle purrs with a cocky grin and leans in to resume the kiss, and Cristina manages to place her glass-free hand on the taller woman’s shoulder to stop her. ( _Damn, why is she still holding the stupid wine glass?!_ )

“Wait, wait, wait! Okay, yes, fine, I got it, you’re a good kisser. But I can’t--we can’t do this, not now. We--we need to talk.”

“ _Again?_ ” Villanelle groans, though she does stop. “That’s all we did when I was your patient! What do you want to talk about now?”

The truth is, Cristina doesn’t know. Sure, there are questions she wants to ask, things she still wants to know, but those aren’t on her mind right at this moment, not when she can still feel the soft buzz and heat of the kiss lingering on her lips. It’s just--she needs to pause, just like she does sometimes before going into an OR for a tricky surgery, to breathe, to come back to herself so she can be fully present and functional for whatever is waiting for her.

“Just--just pour your wine and sit down. On the couch.” 

Cristina pushes the glass into Villanelle’s hand and gestures. Villanelle rolls her eyes but takes the glass without resistance and steps back to turn to the wine bottle. 

“Fine. But can we order some food? I’m hungry, and I’m not going to eat cereal with wine.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

Cristina sighs, relieved to have her space back for now. It’s most likely going to be a long night. She might as well eat some real food, too.


	2. American Pizza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So they talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter... Thank you for reading, and Merry Christmas! xo
> 
> Also thank you for the comments and kudos on the first chapter! They do keep me going :)

Cristina calls for pizza, and it comes fast. The pizza people know doctors live at this address and that doctors are almost always in a hurry either because they have to rush to work soon or they’re starving after a long day of work. 

So now she’s eating pizza and drinking wine perched on the couch next to Villanelle, and it all feels extremely surreal. Why on earth are they having a lazy dinner together? It should be awkward, but somehow it feels so natural and comfortable, like they’ve done this so many times before.

“I like American pizza,” Villanelle says as she stuffs the last bit of the slice she was holding into her mouth and licks her fingers. “It’s so greasy.”

“Where do you usually get pizza?” Cristina glances sideways and asks.

Villanelle wiggles her eyebrows at her. “Are you trying to find out where I come from?”

Cristina doesn’t answer and takes a bite of her slice. It _is_ dripping greasy.

“I’ve spent a lot of time in Europe.” Villanelle tells her easily and sips her wine.

“That’s nice.”

“It’s not bad.”

“So...are you flying back there again?”

Villanelle shrugs. “Probably not too soon.”

Cristina realizes she’s relieved to hear that, though she tries not to admit it.

“Maybe I’ll go on a road trip. I haven’t seen much of America yet.” Villanelle continues, her voice muffled by the next slice of pizza. “I’m on vacation. You know, between jobs.”

Between jobs. 

“So you did quit your former...profession?”

Villanelle glances at her, clearly amused by Cristina’s effort for sensitive word choice.

“Yes, and I’m taking some time off. It’s nice to relax. I was really overworked.”

“Are you saying--” Cristina starts to search for words again and catches Villanelle smirking at her. Well, forget it. Sensitivity was never her forte. “Did you kill a lot of people?” Cristina asks.

Villanelle nods, unfazed. “A lot.”

“And...now?”

“I’m done.”

Cristina has questions. She wants to ask what exactly happened to Villanelle--what got her into killing in the first place, why she decided she wanted to quit, and what she had to do for the past three months to finalize her resignation. But the glimpse of something that crosses Villanelle’s eyes, something vulnerable and raw, stops her. She doesn’t want to press on. Not now. 

So she asks instead, “So no one’s gonna shoot you again?”

Villanelle grins. “I hope not. For now, at least.”

“That’s good.”

“Hmm.” Villanelle hums and takes a big bite of pizza.

For a few moments, they stay quiet. Cristina finishes her last slice and wipes her fingers off on a napkin, while Villanelle swallows down her pizza and takes a sip of wine.

“I like your apartment,” Villanelle says abruptly.

“Um...thanks?” 

“This couch is nice. It’s firm and comfy. You have a cozy bathroom, too. It’s too bad you don’t have a tub, though.” Villanelle muses on. “And you should change your bed sheets. That red wine stain has been there for a while.”

“How do you know--” Cristina frowns, and then, gapes at the younger woman as it dawns on her. “You broke into my apartment?!”

“I _stopped by_ , and you were not home.”

“What? Did you see Callie?!”

“Oh, no, your roommate wasn’t home, either.”

“That’s called _breaking in_ and it’s _illegal!_ ” 

Villanelle just stares back. She clearly knows and doesn’t care.

“Ugh. Whatever.” 

Cristina huffs and slumps on the back of the couch, resting her head there and closing her eyes. She didn’t expect that coming, but she wasn’t exactly surprised, either, after all the pranks Villanelle pulled while in the hospital, including _leaving_ it without anyone catching her.

After a pause, Villanelle asks quietly, “Aren’t you scared?” 

“Of what?” Cristina blurts out, and opens her eyes to see the searching look on Villanelle’s face. Cristina blinks. “Oh. Of you? No.”

That comes out almost automatically, which surprises Cristina herself. She’s alone in this small room with someone who has confirmed she has killed a lot of people as well as confessing to breaking into her apartment. She probably _should_ be scared. But when she looks at Villanelle, she just doesn’t see any reason to. 

Maybe it’s just hard to be scared of someone after you’ve cut them open on an OR table.

Cristina sighs and rests her head back on the couch. “But I’m annoyed you came into my apartment and didn’t even leave a note. I seriously thought you were dead, for three fucking months, after I--”

“Saved my life.” Villanelle finishes her sentence in only a slightly mocking tone. “I know, Cristina.”

Cristina looks up and glares, and the younger woman shrugs.

“I couldn’t contact you. It wouldn’t have been safe.” Villanelle explains patiently.

“Yeah, yeah, I get that. Some secret international organization was after you.” Cristina says, looking up at the ceiling again, but as she says it, she knows she doesn’t, not really. She can’t imagine what it’s like, and she’s just glad Villanelle is somehow still alive. Though she doesn’t voice it.

Instead, she says, “I hope you have money. You left behind some fat bills to pay.”

“Oh.” Villanelle pauses. “Okay. Yeah, I have money.”

“Good.”

Villanelle watches her for a while and chuckles softly. “You’re strange.” 

Who’s talking? Cristina thinks.


	3. Roundabout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finish talking. Finally.

“So...are we done with the talking?” 

Villanelle moves on the couch, tucking in one leg to sit sideways so she can fully face Cristina.

Cristina doesn’t answer right away. She just stays in the same slumped position, her eyes on the ceiling, listening to her own heartbeat. 

Then, she slowly turns her face to look straight at the other woman. “Why are you here?”

Villanelle blinks, apparently not expecting the question, and tilts her head. “I thought you missed me?”

Cristina rolls her eyes.

“Fine.” Villanelle shrugs. “I missed you, too.”

“And?” 

“And what?”

“You missed me, so you came to see me, and...what do you want?”

Villanelle briefly glances down to Cristina’s lips and says, “Right now, I want to kiss you again.”

Cristina tries to ignore the flutter in her heart, which is clearly not for medical reasons, and challenges, “So you want sex. That’s why you are here.”

Villanelle raises her eyebrows. “Cristina. I said nothing about sex.”

“You said you want to kiss me.”

“We can just kiss,” Villanelle says softly.

Cristina scoffs. “So what, we’re just gonna kiss and make out on the couch like a couple of teenagers?”

“We could do that.”

“And then, what? You take off again? Is that what you want?”

“Cristina.” Villanelle leans forward, narrowing her eyes, “If I just want sex, I can get it anytime with anyone I want.”

“Obviously. And you kept trying to get it from me when you were my patient.” 

“You can’t blame me. You are hot.” Villanelle smirks seductively.

“I know.” Cristina tries to keep the firm tone, but Villanelle’s face is just inches from hers now, and her heart is pounding.

Villanelle chuckles. “But you wouldn’t even let me kiss you in the hospital.”

“Of course not!” Cristina frowns. “You were--”

“I was your patient.” Villanelle finishes her sentence again, and moves even closer. “But we’re not in the hospital now. I’m not your patient. And you let me kiss you once already.”

“It's not like I had a choice--” Cristina tries to say but falters, staring back into those hazel eyes. She can feel Villanelle’s breath tickle her own lips, and it’s getting harder to form coherent thoughts.

“I came here for you, Cristina,” Villanelle whispers. “What do _you_ want?”

“I...” 

With a small sigh, she gives up. One thing about being a good doctor is you need to have a very smart brain and be able to use it under the highest pressure, but you also have to know when the mind fails and, then, be able to switch to relying on your instinct. That’s exactly what Cristina does. She switches off her mind and lets her instinct take over, which means grabbing Villanelle’s face in her hands and crashing their lips together. 

Villanelle lets out a soft gasp, but that’s the only hint of surprise she shows. She smirks into the kiss and, supporting her body with one arm on the back of the couch, puts the other arm around Cristna’s body and pulls her in, returning the kiss fervently. 

Before Cristina knows it, she’s pressed down on the couch with Villanelle on top of her, still kissing, hands moving all over each other, and she thinks vaguely in the corner of her hazy mind, _God, we really are making out on the couch like a couple of teenagers._

Villanelle’s hand slides up under the bulky Stanford sweat she’s wearing and she shivers at the feel of it, but then, Villanelle suddenly stops and pulls away from the kiss, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed, and demands, “I want to see your bedroom.”

“What? But you said you’ve already--” Confused, Cristina starts to respond, and, when she realizes what Villanelle is trying to say, bursts into laughter, because the roundaboutness of those words feels almost out of place after all the unabashedly direct expressions of sexual desire Villanelle showered her with in the hospital. 

“What is so funny?” Villanelle frowns indignantly, which only makes Cristina laugh harder.

“Nothing. Sorry.” Wiping her eyes, Cristina slides off the couch and gets up on her feet, pulling Villanelle by the arm. “Come on, I’ll show you my bedroom.”

Still frowning, Villanelle follows without complaining.

*

As soon as they close the bedroom door, Villanelle practically throws Cristina on the bed and climbs on top of her, kissing her hard again, and when Cristina’s hands instinctively reach up, Villanelle grabs them and pins them down on the mattress.

“What, you’re not gonna let me touch you?” 

Cristina dares, and Villanelle shakes her head, her eyes twinkling.

“No. You’ve touched me already. You even had your hands inside me. It’s my turn.”

“That was a surgery! It doesn’t coun--” 

Villanelle cuts her off by crashing their lips together again, and Cristina gives up protesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't write smut, so nothing explicit, but I'm happy they finally got to the bedroom. It was long-overdue!


	4. Clingy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Villanelle definitely knows what she’s doing. (But it's not like Cristina has no clue, either.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a very naked chapter, though still t-rated :) And longer than the previous ones, too!

It's not like Cristina has no experience. Sure, men are her first choice most of the time (they are generally faster and easier to come by, too), but she has never felt the need to limit herself, and, of course, women have found her attractive, too. So there has been kissing and much more than kissing and even that one time with a visiting European professor who was delighted by the sharp questions Cristina asked in her special lecture, which was probably one of the best sex she’s ever had in her life. 

But it doesn’t even compare to what Villanelle is doing. Nothing does, not even Burke, who she did love as fully as she could at that time.

Villanelle definitely knows what she’s doing. She’s gentle yet relentless, her arms strong, her lips soft, and her hands so precise, delicate, and bold all at the same time, and Cristina just lets them _handle_ her, allowing herself open up and drown in sensation after sensation.

And when she finally collapses on her back and Villanelle slowly rolls off of her, Cristina lies there for a few moments, with her eyes closed, her chest heaving for air, her entire body in a buzz. 

Gentle fingers stroke her hair, and she slowly opens her eyes to find Villanelle, flushed and her hair tousled, propped up on her elbow beside her, looking into her face with a sweet and very pleased look.

Cristina chuckles and reaches up one hand to pull Villanelle’s head down for a kiss. 

“Hmm.” Villanelle hums happily as she smiles into the kiss. 

Cristina slowly pulls away and whispers, “Okay, that was...really good.”

“I know I am.” Villanelle purrs smugly and lies back down on her side, resting her head on the pillow. 

Cristina rolls her eyes and turns on her side so they’re facing each other. They lie there, sweaty and glowing and looking into each other’s eyes. 

Villanelle’s hands are resting between them, and Cristina takes them in her own and studies them. Smooth skin, long, sleek fingers, they are very fine hands, though she now knows how strong they can be and what they are capable of, and she wonders how many women they have touched and how many people they have killed, and what Villanelle felt in those times.

“Are you falling in love with my hands?” Villanelle asks curiously. “I know they are very good, but don’t forget I used other parts, too.”

Cristina snorts. “Yeah, I noticed.”

“Good.”

“But you do have good hands, and it’s coming from a surgeon.”

“Hmm.” With a pleased grin, Villanelle rolls over on her back and stretches up her arms, staring up at her own palms. “Do you think I could be a surgeon?”

“Do you _want to_ be a surgeon?” Cristina asks, watching the other woman’s profile. 

“Maybe. I don’t know.” Villanelle drops the hands on the mattress and turns her head to look at Cristina. “It might be a nice change, right? To start saving lives?”

Cristina just smiles and reaches her hand to brush a strand of hair off Villanelle’s forehead, who closes her eyes briefly, enjoying the touch.

“Maybe you can be a general surgeon if you start studying now, but not cardio.”

“Why not?” 

Cristina puts on a smug grin. “Because you have to be really good to be a heart surgeon. Like me.”

“Are you saying I’m not as good as you?” Villanelle pouts.

“I’m just saying I’m _really_ good.”

“O-kay.”

“I can prove it.” 

Villanelle narrows her eyes with a knowing smirk. “How?” 

“Like this.” Cristina pushes herself up and swiftly straddles the younger girl. 

Villanelle looks up at her, clearly enjoying the view, and tilts her head. “Have you ever done this before?”

“Let’s say I’d be an intern in that department and you’d probably be an attending, maybe even the head.” 

Villanelle raises an eyebrow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’m saying you’re definitely more experienced than I am, but I do have _very_ good hands, and I’m a fast learner.” As she says, Cristina hovers over the other girl, supporting herself on one arm. “And I’m very willing to practice.”

Villanelle just smirks, and lets Cristina kiss her.

*

They take turns, turns meld together, and soon it’s all one big sweaty mess, skin on skin, lips on lips, lips on skin, gasps, chuckles, shivers, and hot breaths mingling. Cristina doesn’t know how long they’ve been doing this and honestly wouldn’t mind at all if this went on forever, but it does end somehow at some point, with them tangled in the sheets and with each other, breathing heavily in comfortable silence.

Cristina rests her head on Villanelle’s arm, her own arm spreading across Villanelle’s body, feeling Villanelle’s long, sleek fingers play with the abundant curls of her hair.

“Wow.” Cristina finally speaks, or croaks, and remembers she’s pretty thirsty, though she has no energy to get up for a glass of water.

“Hmm.” Villanelle hums back lazily. “I told you you would like it.”

“Oh, come on!” Cristina looks up with a fake glare. “ _You_ liked it, too.”

Villanelle just grins and kisses her on the lips. 

Cristina wonders how all this can feel so natural. Just a few hours ago, it was unthinkable, them lying together in bed, naked, spent and lazy after incredible sex, kissing. 

And yet, there they are.

“So...” Cristina asks, when they pull away, looking into the other girl’s eyes, “What now?”

Villanelle stares back, her eyes wider. “Do you want more sex?”

Cristina laughs. “No! Not now.”

“Good. I wouldn’t say no, but I could use some sleep.”

“Yeah, I definitely need to get some sleep before going into work, but...”

“Hmm?” 

Villanelle is looking back at her with sleepy eyes, which makes her look almost like a little child. _After everything we’ve just done_ , Cristina thinks, smiling despite the question she’s going to ask.

“...Are you gonna disappear again now?”

Villanelle ponders on it for a few moments before shaking her head. “No. I’m too sleepy to disappear. I will be here when you wake up.”

Cristina rolls her eyes. “Great, next four hours secured.”

“Ooh, you are being clingy.” Villanelle chuckles.

Cristina doesn’t like the sound of it. Cristina Yang doesn’t get clingy, especially to people she slept with just once (though she could debate whether to count what they’ve just done as once or a “series”), but she also realizes Villanelle isn’t just one-time sex to her. She’s aware, though she still doesn’t want to straight up admit it, that she already cares about her too much to call her that. 

“I just...I can’t have you disappear on me the way you did again.” Cristina sighs and says reluctantly. “I can’t have another three months of not knowing where you are or whether you are even alive.”

She thinks of the marks and scars she just saw on Villanelle’s skin. She recognized two of them, one of the gunshot wound that had brought Villanelle to the ER and one that she had left herself with the appy. She also remembered seeing a few while Villanele was in the hospital, on her long arms and legs sticking out of the patient gown. 

But she didn’t know, until tonight, there were more in hidden places--old wounds, burns, patches of skin once put together by clumsy stitches, not fatal yet never going away. They made Cristina wonder again what this girl had gone through. She touched and kissed every one of them, wishing it would somehow brush away the memory of pain, hoping there would be no more such scars on this body.

But saying that feels too much--too possessive, too intimate, too emotional--so Cristina just stares into the younger girl’s eyes.

Villanelle’s eyelashes flatter and she stares back with her eyes wide and innocent, and Cristina thinks Villanelle gets it, that she knows what Cristina wants to say, and then--

“Wow. You really _are_ clingy.”

“Oh, forget it!” Cristina huffs and rolls away in exasperation, turning her back to Villanelle.

A moment later, she feels long, strong arms sneak around her waist and Villanelle’s warm body slowly press up against hers. Villanelle nuzzles into her hair and pulls her in even closer.

“Don’t be mad, Cristina.”

Villanelle presses a kiss at the nape of her neck and waits as Cristina’s body slowly gives in and melts into the embrace.

“They think I’m dead.” Villanelle whispers, her lips brushing Cristina’s skin. “I want to be on the move for a bit to make sure they really do. But I will not disappear from you.”

Cristina sighs and places her hand softly on Villanelle’s arm. “And if they knew you were alive?”

Villanelle doesn’t say anything.

“They would come after you, wouldn’t they? Trying to kill you?”

“Probably.” Villanelle hums casually, lips on the skin. “But that’s not likely, and if they did come, they wouldn’t be able to kill me, because I’m good.”

 _Good enough to fight away a secret organization of assassins?_ Cristina wants to ask but knows there would be no point.

“How long are you gonna be gone?”

“I don’t know.” Villanelle gives a small shrug, as much as their current position allows. “But it won’t take another three months.”

“And how am I gonna know you’re not dead while you’re gone?”

“I’ll find ways to get in touch with you.” Villanelle chuckles softly. “Cristina, I told you I’ll be around when you wake up.”

“When I wake up, I go to work. You’ll disappear while I’m working.” Cristina can feel Villanelle smile into her skin.

“I promise I won’t disappear without letting you now.” 

“Oh, that’s comforting.”

Cristina gives another long, deep sigh.

“God, it’s stressful. _You_ are stressful.”

“I think you like that,” Villanelle mumbles in a sleepy voice.

“No, I don’t! My job is trying to keep people alive, and that’s stressful enough. I can’t be constantly worrying about your life, too! Like you said, you’re not my patient anymore, and, I don’t know what you are--what _we_ are--now, but even if it was just sex, I still--” 

As she speaks, Cristina tries to turn and realizes she can’t move an inch because Villanelle’s arms are so tightly wrapped around her, and that the other girl has stopped responding.

“Villanelle?”

All she hears is slow, regular breathing, which, seconds later, turns into light snoring.

“...Seriously?” 

Cristina mutters, but of course, there’s no answer, for, seriously and apparently, Villanelle has fallen asleep, leaving Cristina firmly locked in her arms. ( _Now, who’s the clingy one?_ )

She doesn’t get how Villanelle can sleep so peacefully and soundly when she was just talking about the possibility of someone, or some _organization_ , coming to kill her. 

But then, she does know the feeling of lying in bed with someone who makes her feel safe after hours and days in tense, high-pressure situations, how easy it is to knock herself out as soon as her head hits the pillow.

If Villanelle is feeling something similar, Cristina wouldn’t mind that.

Her own eyelids are getting heavy, and she knows she’ll pass out as soon as she closes them. She curls her lips into a smirk and whispers, “Okay.” Her hand finds Villanelle’s and tangles their fingers together.

Villanelle is now snoring louder, right behind her ear, but the sound fades away quickly as Cristina, too, falls into deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> This is as far as I roughly drafted out when I started.  
> I have ideas about what's going to happen, but it'll take a bit more time to write the next bit. So thank you for your patience in advance...
> 
> Also, do comment if you will and let me know what you think so far! Feedback always helps :)
> 
> I wish you all a very happy new year wherever you are! xo


	5. Safety Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s only one thought in Cristina’s mind as she hurries across the street to the hospital.
> 
> _How am I gonna tell Mer?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience! 
> 
> I had fun bringing in a bit of Seattle Grace in this one :)

The pager goes off. Cristina immediately jumps up and off the bed and starts getting dressed, almost on auto-pilot. She glances at the clock as she grabs the closest bra and puts it on and realizes she’s late-- _really_ late, and it’s actually lucky she got paged, for she would’ve overslept till even later otherwise because she forgot to set the alarm last night because--

Wiggling to pull up the skinny jeans, Cristina pivots around to find Villanelle curled up and wrapped in sheets on the far side of the bed, watching her with unfocused, still-more-than-half-asleep eyes. 

“Don’t--don’t leave yet!” Cristina almost yells. “We’re not done yet. Stay here until I come back.”

Villanelle blinks slowly and asks in a sleep-ridden voice, “Are you locking me up in this room, naked and hungry?”

“What?”

“That’s kinky.”

“What?! No!” Cristina groans. “I’m just _asking_ you to be here when I come back!”

“Hmm.” Vilanelle rubs her eyes. “Do you have food in the fridge?”

“Um, there’s some cereal left in the kitchen.”

Cristina pulls on a random top and sees Villanelle staring back at her with sad eyes.

“Cristina. I’m not going to eat cereal all day.”

Okay. It’s annoying, but probably fair enough. Cristina does understand it’s not very nice to leave someone in your apartment with only a box of cereal, coffee, and liquor as the sustenance even though she practically does live on them.

“You can order pizza again?” she offers.

Villanelle shakes her head with even sadder eyes. 

“Okay! Fine! You can go out for food or whatever. Meet me at Joe’s, then. I get off at six. You know where Joe’s is, right?”

Villanelle yawns and nods. “Hm-hmm.”

“Good. I’ll see you there.” Cristina grabs the jacket and pushes her phone into the pocket of her jeans. “Oh, and if you see Callie, just tell her you’re my friend or something.”

“You want me to tell her I’m your _friend?_ ”

Cristina turns around, about to rush out the door. “It’s just...less complicated.”

Villanelle raises a questioning eyebrow.

Cristina sighs and bounces up on the bed to drop a quick kiss on Villanelle’s lips and touches her cheek briefly, “We’ll discuss that later.” Then she hops off the bed and rushes off, leaving the bedroom door half-open and the naked and hungry former assassin in bed, with a wide grin on her sleepy face.

*

There’s only one thought in Cristina’s mind as she hurries across the street to the hospital.

 _How am I gonna tell Mer?_

Up until this point, she has never really discussed Villanelle with her person, mostly because there wasn’t anything to discuss. She did complain to Meredith about how problematic this “Jane Doe” was, especially at the beginning, and later, as it became known to everyone this hot female patient was nonstop hitting on Cristina, Meredith did ask her how she felt about it, and Cristina shrugged it off saying, “She’s my patient.” If Meredith sensed something, she didn’t press her.

And when Cristina vaguely found out about Villanelle’s former profession, she really wanted to talk to Mer but couldn’t, because if everything she thought Villanelle had implied was true, she worried telling any of it to Meredith might put her in danger. So she kept it all to herself, including Villanelle’s name ( _god, how she wanted to tell Mer about this fancy, ridiculous name!_ ).

After Villanelle disappeared, Meredith did try to talk to her because, clearly, she wasn’t okay and Mer could tell. But again, she didn’t know how to share what had been going on without sharing the things that might, if remotely possibly, risk Meredith’s life, and honestly, there was nothing to tell after all, because nothing had happened. 

So she kept avoiding the topic, and Meredith was suspicious for a while but eventually seemed to decide to move on, and lately they are back to the safe and well-known realm of discussing Derek, whom Mer has just gotten back with again.

But now, there’s absolutely no way Cristina can go without telling her person about Villanelle because something actually _has_ happened. 

She just doesn’t know where to start. 

_Hey, I just slept with my former patient! Oh, by the way, she used to professionally kill people, too._

She honestly doesn’t know which part Mer would find the most shocking--the “former patient” part, “she,” or the “professional killer” part. 

Or, maybe she can avoid mentioning the last bit all together. For now.

Cristina’s head is still spinning with thoughts when she arrives at the ER entrance, but she snaps back to reality as soon as she's greeted by the sight of Bailey and the other residents--George, Izzie, Alex, and Meredith--waiting, all gowned and ready. 

Bailey shoots her a glare that is louder than a yell, and without a word, Cristina dashes inside to get gowned.

“Hey,” Meredith follows to help her.

“Hey,” Cristina greets back, averting her eyes. “What’ve we got?”

“Seven-car pile-up collision.”

“Nice.” 

"Something happened.”

Cristina glances at Mer, who is narrowing her eyes suspiciously, and quickly turns around.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You totally do! You’re never late to the pit. Where were you last night? What were you--” Interrogating her, Meredith comes behind Cristina to tie her gown and pauses. “...Are you wearing perfume?”

Cristina’s heart jumps. _Fuck, was Villanelle wearing perfume?_ Her mind races back to last night, and she does remember--yes, Villanelle _was_ wearing perfume. She did notice it, but it was quick to get lost in all the other things that overwhelmed her senses. 

After all, it was a night full of stimulation.

Cristina opens her mouth to answer, though she has no idea how to explain without spilling out the whole story, for which there’s no time now, and thankfully, Bailey saves her by hollering from the outside.

“Grey! Yang! You think you’re at the mall trying out dresses? Get your chatty asses out here and get to work!” 

They both jump and run back out like a pair of puppies, but Meredith doesn’t forget to give Cristina a look that says, _You’re not off the hook_ , before the first ambulance arrives with loud sirens and they start moving, temporarily forgetting everything but broken bones and squashed organs and blood everywhere.

*

Cristina ends up scrubbing in with Chief Webber on one of the drivers who is in a critical condition, and that goes quite peacefully except when Webber sniffs and asks, “Are you wearing perfume, Dr. Yang?” (to which she mumbles back something about borrowing Callie’s shampoo.) 

The surgery takes up all morning and a good chunk of the afternoon, and it’s when Cristina finally sits down at the cafeteria for late lunch Meredith finds her, thumps down on the chair next to her, and looks straight at her. “So?”

With her mouth stuffed with green beans, Cristina glances at her sideways. 

“Who did you sleep with last night? Was he married? Is that his wife’s perfume?”

Cristina swallows down the beans and wags her fork at Mer. “Okay, I _will_ tell you everything. I want to. I _need_ to. Just give me some time. I need to sort out and make sure some things before telling you the whole story for...safety issues.”

“Safety issues?” Meredith frowns in confusion. “What did you do?”

“No, it’s not me! I didn’t do anything.” Cristina shakes her head and pauses. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t _think_ so?”

“Guys, you’re not gonna believe what I just saw in the OR!”

Cristina has never been this happy to see Izzie, who came practically skipping and joins the table with her typical perky, cheerful grin. The tall blonde is ready to jump into her story, but then, she sees the look on Meredith’s face, and Cristina’s.

“...Am I interrupting something?”

“Absolutely not! Tell us, Izzie. I’m _so_ interested in what you saw in the OR--” 

Just as Cristina over-enthusiastically responds to Izzie, who looks slightly taken aback, Cristina's pager goes off. 

“Oops, sorry. Coding patient. I have to go. But make sure Mer hears the story. Mer, I’ll talk to you later!”

With that, Cristina jumps off the chair and sprints away, postponing the talk yet again, hearing Meredith’s “You definitely will!” on her back.


	6. On-Call Room

It sucks when a patient dies, always, but especially when you think at first you’ve saved their life--and it turns out you haven’t.

That’s what happens to the patient Cristina operated on with the Chief. When they arrived at his room, he was collapsing fast. They did literally everything they could to revive him, but at the end of the day, it’s not for them to decide. When it’s time, it’s time.

So he dies, and Cristina has to speak to his family, who has just missed his final moments, and tell them that their husband and father is dead and watch them break down, and though the Chief assures her she was flawless in her work and there was absolutely no way they could’ve saved him and she fully understands it, it still leaves her heart heavy.

So she’s feeling pretty drained as she is walking down the hallway and nearly bumps into Meredith, who comes half-running around the corner.

“Oh! Hey, Cristina! I was looking for you!” 

“Hey.” Cristina shakes her head tiredly. “Not now. I just lost a patient--”

“No, I was looking for you for Vivienne.”

“Who?”

“For--”

“Me.” 

Cristina thinks she might pass out when she sees the person who peeks from behind Meredith.

Villanelle, looking perfectly professional in a dark gray pant suit and with a black briefcase, flashes a cheeky grin at Cristina. She turns to Meredith and speaks cheerfully in an odd American accent. 

“Thank you _so_ much for your help, Dr. Grey! You are an angel!”

“No problem.” Meredith gives her a quick smile before forcefully taking Cristina’s arm. “Dr. Yang, a word?”

She walks them away from Villanelle far enough to be out of her earshot and hisses in a low whisper, her face close to Cristina’s, “You slept with her.”

Cristina opens her mouth, but no words come out with her mind still half-frozen from shock.

“You’re lucky Derek needs me in the OR right now. But you’re so going to tell me everything tomorrow.”

Cristina just grins and nods back.

Meredith gives her one last threatening look before turning to Villanelle and calling out brightly, “It was nice meeting you, Vivienne.”

Villanelle, who’s leaning on the wall at the corner watching them, grins and waves in response. 

As soon as Meredith walks away, Cristina collapses against the wall.

Villanelle saunters up to her and greets cheerfully. “Hi, Dr. Yang.”

“What the--” Cristina starts, but purses her lips, remembering they’re in the middle of her workplace. “Come with me.” 

She grabs Villanelle by the wrist and drags her to the nearest on-call room, where she basically shoves the younger woman in (“Hey!”). As soon as she shuts the door behind her, Cristina shrieks.

“What are you doing here?! Why were you with Meredith?! What did you say to her?! I--I can’t believe you told her about last night!”

Cristina starts pacing in small circles, her hands flaring up in the air. 

“God, what am I supposed to do? Now I have to tell her everything, but I can’t tell her everything! ”

Villanelle, standing in the middle of the room, one hand on her hip and the other holding the brief case, watches her with knitted brows and asks, “Are you in love with her?”

“What?” Cristina halts, startled. “With Mer? No!”

“Then why don’t you want her to know about last night?”

“No, I want her to. She _has_ to. But she has to know from _me_.”

Vilanelle looks even more confused. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s just...that’s how we work. Even when I decided to marry Burke, I told him not to--”

“You are _married?_ ”

Cristina squeezes her eyes shut and sighs. “No. That never happened. Anyway, my point is...I was supposed to be the one to tell Meredith about us, and you ruined it.”

“Okay.” Villanelle nods slowly, though still looking confused. “But I didn’t.”

Cristina glares. “What do you mean? You told her you slept with me. How else would she know?”

“I don’t know why she knows, but I didn’t tell her. I didn’t even talk to her first. _She_ talked to _me_.”

“She talked to you?” 

“Yeah. I was at the nurse's station asking for you, and she saw me and asked me if I was your patient.”

Cristina stares at her, now her brows knitted. “...Why did you come here in the first place?”

“To pay my bills, like you said.” Villanelle lifts the briefcase. “Your friend took me to the accountant’s office and helped me count the money.”

“Wait, you paid in cash?”

“Better to be on the safe side.” Villanelle shrugs. 

Cristina leans against the door and groans, burying her head in her hands. “Great, now Meredith saw you with a briefcase full of cash. That’s another thing to explain!”

Then, a question crosses her mind.

“If you really didn’t tell her, how does she know I slept with you? Was it that obvious--”

That’s when her brain _finally_ registers the scent her nose has been perceiving all along. 

“Oh. The perfume.”

“Are you done? Can we take a break from the talking?”

Surprised by the proximity of Villanelle’s voice, Cristina looks up and finds Villanelle standing close--so close she’s practically towering over her.

“You really like to talk, Cristina.” Villanelle smirks, her voice low, clearly ready to seduce. “But I’m getting bored, and you look very cute in this.” Her eyes wander up and down Cristina’s scrubs. “You know, after I left, I thought a lot about you wearing this...and the things I wanted to do with you in this hospital...”

With Villanelle standing so close, and with the memory of last night still so vivid, Cristina feels her entire body responding to the magnetic pull between them, and the sight of Villanelle in that pant suit, along with the now almost suffocating scent of her perfume, is so intoxicating she could just succumb to it and let Villanelle take her.

But this time, she’s more prepared to take command. 

Holding their gaze, she slowly reaches behind. A click, and the door locks. Villanelle tilts her head, intrigued and waiting.

“Okay, we can take a break.” Cristina whispers, one hand touching the other girl’s cheek and the other sliding up her body and grasping the collar of her suit jacket. “But I’m taking this off you first.”

 _I’ve definitely seen her more naked than clothed since she came back and that’s just ridiculous_ , she thinks in the corner of her mind as she stretches up and kisses the younger woman slowly. But what else did she expect to happen? 

After all, they’re in the on-call room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and for your patience with the slow updates! xoxo
> 
> Also I often re-read and edit little things after I post. I don't know if it sends you a notification every time if you're subscribed...but if it does, sorry!


	7. Big, Dark Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another after-sex chatty hour (they clearly have a lot to talk about!).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience! Life is a bit busier, and my writing is slower, but it's still happening. xoxo

“So this is where you come to have sex with your coworkers?” Villanelle asks, her eyes on the ceiling, her hair loosely spread over the pillow.

They’re lying side-by-side on the small single bed, naked and warm after sex, Villanelle’s arm under Cristina’s neck.

“Not always. You’re not my coworker.” Cristina answers with a slight yawn. “And we do other things sometimes, too. Like, sleep or talk about private stuff.”

“That’s handy.”

Cristina chuckles. “Yeah, it comes handy.”

For a few moments, they lie in comfortable silence. Cristina enjoys the soft, slightly ticklish sensation of Villanelle’s fingers playing with the curls of her hair just like they did last night. _This girl seems to have a thing for my hair_ , Cristina thinks. She doesn’t mind it at all. She also doesn’t mind the way their bodies fit together so easily and perfectly as they lie like this. In fact, she wouldn’t mind at all falling asleep or waking up like this more than once in a while.

Cristina sighs and says, “I’m going to tell Meredith everything.”

Villanelle turns her head to look at her curiously. “Like what we just did?”

“No! That--that wasn’t the first thing I had in mind.” Though now Villanelle’s question made her think about it. She’s not into sharing sex details, even with Meredith, but she can’t promise she won’t say anything about how great the sex is. It’s quite likely she won’t be able to stop herself from bragging if only a bit.

“I don’t mind.” Villanelle says with a small yawn.

“Great, but I wasn’t talking about that. I meant I have to tell her about...” Cristina bites her lower lip. “...your past.”

She can’t quite read the look on Villanelle’s face, which remains neutral as she asks back, “Like I’ve killed many people?” 

“Among other things, yes.” Cristina nods.

Villanelle simply replies, “Okay.”

“I can’t lie to her.” Cristina blurts out, suddenly overcome by the urge to explain. “No one else needs to know, but I can’t lie to Meredith. The only reason I haven’t told her anything about you yet is because I didn’t know if it would be safe for her, and...I didn’t know if I’d ever even see you again. But now you’re here, and we have this thing, whatever it is--” she gestures the space between them. “And...there’s no way I can _not_ tell Mer.”

“Okay.”

Cristina stares at the former assassin for a moment. “That’s it? You’re just...okay? Isn’t it like your big, dark, secret past?”

“ _I_ ’ve been a big, dark secret for a long time.” Villanelle shrugs. “I don’t really care who knows what, as long as I don’t get killed or arrested.”

“Well, I’m not gonna tell anyone else and Meredith won’t, either.” Cristina says, though she doesn’t know how much reassurance that offers. She takes a mental note to really strongly warn Mer not to tell Derek. Also, she needs to make sure--

“Would it be dangerous for her to know?”

Villanelle rolls her eyes and shrugs again. “It’s always better to not know things. But you’re still alive.”

That’s not comforting at all, but Cristina can’t help laughing. She’s had similar talks with patients and their families. They ask you about risks, estimates, possibilities, when they’re really asking for a guarantee that they, or their loved ones, are not going to die, and very often, all you can give is facts.

Villanelle watches her in slight puzzlement, probably not getting why she’s laughing, and asks. “But why does she matter to you so much, this...Meredith?”

Cristina turns on her side so she’s facing the other woman. “Because she’s my person.”

“I don’t understand.” Villanelle knits her eyebrows. “What does that mean?”

“Well, I once told someone that if I murdered someone, Mer would be the person I'd call to help me dispose of the body.”

The former assassin looks even more confused. “Has she killed people, too?” 

Cristina laughs. “I don’t know, she might have. But it was hypothetical. It just means she’s the person I go to first if anything happens in my life, and she would do the same with me.”

Villanelle seems to be pondering on what she said for a moment. “Okay, but I would be a better person to call if you murdered someone and wanted to dispose of the body. I’m kind of an expert in that _niche_.”

Cristina laughs again. “Yeah, I’d probably call you for that now.”

“And..." Villanelle gives her a suspicious look. "You’ve never had sex with her?”

“No!” Cristina makes a face and shakes her head. “God, no, that’s like sleeping with your sister.” 

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t have a sister.” Her eyes on the ceiling, Villanelle pouts her lower lip. “But...okay.”

The childish look on the younger woman’s face fills Cristina’s chest with a sense of warmth that she rarely feels for another human being. She’s definitely falling more and more for this huge pain in the ass, who is potentially life-threatening to keep around.

She smirks and asks teasingly, “Are you jealous?” 

Villanelle doesn’t say anything, pouty and still looking at the ceiling.

Cristina laughs and kisses the edge of her shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’s different. Not like...this.” 

She’s not completely sure what “this” is yet, but she’s willing to find out. 

Villanelle stays silent, but her face softens.

“Hey,” Cristina says softly. “Tell me more about your big, dark secret sometime.”

Villanelle looks at her sideways raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure you want to know? Maybe it’s not safe for you.”

“I don’t care. I get great sex with it.”

Villanelle gives a genuine laugh, the sound of which makes Cristina grin.

“But let’s go get some food for now. I’m hungry.” Saying, she stretches and hops up on the bed. After all, she only got to eat a handful of green beans for lunch.

“Hmm. Okay.” Villanelle follows with a stretch and a yawn. 

*

They slowly get dressed, searching for pieces of clothes scattered on the bed and the floor.

“You ruined my shirt,” Villanelle says, picking up the wrinkled dress shirt that was stuck in the corner of the bed. 

“Oh, you enjoyed the process.” Cristina replies with a smug grin as she pulls on her scrub top.

After she kissed Villanelle, Cristina only managed to unbutton her shirt before she got impatient and ended up pushing her down on the bed with the shirt on. It was the rush of adrenalin, but she can’t deny she enjoyed more than a lot the sight of Villanelle half-stripped and pressed onto the sheets under her (she was also quite proud of the development of her skills). Though the shirt came off eventually, all the sweaty, messy action had already wrinkled it up by then. 

The suit jacket, which Villanelle did manage to save as she was taken to the bed, is left on the lower bunk lightly folded in half, and the belt and the pants are simply tossed on the floor. 

“Your hotel has laundry service, right? Just send it out with your laundry and they’ll iron it.” Cristina says as she picks up her pants and puts them on. “Where are you staying? Archfield?”

“I don’t know, maybe.” Villanelle says nonchalantly, her fingers carefully buttoning up the wrecked shirt.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Cristina looks at her suspiciously.

Villanelle stares back as if she was being very slow and explains. “It means I haven’t decided where to stay tonight.”

“But don’t you have a room somewhere? Where do you keep your stuff?”

“I have all my stuff on me.”

It’s pretty surreal to hear that from someone sitting on the bed with her bare legs crossed, only with a wrinkled shirt and lacy panties on.

Villanelle catches the bafflement on Cristina’s face and adds, “I travel light.”

“Obviously.” Cristina rolls her eyes. She’s fully dressed now and has nothing more to do, so she leans on the corner of the bunk bed and crosses her arms. “So is that part of your risk management?”

“Kind of,” Villanelle says casually as she gets up, picks up the trousers, and lifts them up high to check the damage. She seems satisfied with the result and starts putting them on.

Cristina watches her and thinks about the life that has trained this woman in the skill sets that are so different from her own--putting on disguise and changing accents, moving places to leave little trace, and _killing_ , though she hasn’t seen the last one conducted. 

That life-- _a life as a big, dark secret_ \--feels so far from the one she has known, yet the way Villanelle seems to know exactly what to do and be able to do it with such precision and efficiency when it comes to crucial matters (though her usual behavior seems pretty chaotic and whimsical) reminds her of herself.

Maybe they are more alike than they appear. Maybe that’s why she’s drawn to this woman so much.

“You know what?” She shakes her head and says. “Let’s get some takeout and go home. You can stay with me again tonight.”

Villanelle turns around, her eyes slightly wide. “Really?”

Cristina shrugs. “It’s easier, and I could use a shower.” 

It’s true, she’s feeling pretty filthy now, for it feels like all she’s done in the past twenty-four hours is getting sweaty, having sex, running around in the hospital, and trying to save a patient.

“I cleaned your shower a bit.” Villanelle says as she slowly walks up to the bunk bed.

“You did?”

“Yeah, your hair is very nice on you, but not when it’s clogging up the drain.” She picks up her jacket and looks down at Cristina with a cheeky grin. “Oh, and I changed the sheets, too. No more wine stain.”

Cristina raises an eyebrow and shakes her head. "You _were_ planning to stay at my place tonight.”

“I was just being a good guest, making your home comfortable for you.” Villanelle shrugs unapologetically. “But I’m happy to be sleeping on the clean sheets tonight.”

“Whatever. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if you said you’d repainted my walls.”

“Oh, yeah. I hope you like pink.”

“What?”

Villanelle laughs, and Cristina rolls her eyes with a sigh. “Let's go home now."


	8. Joie de Vivre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They get takeout food and walk home. And talk more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some spoilers about Cristina's past and relationship with Burke. So...tread at your own risk?

To Cristina’s relief, none of the other residents are in the locker room when they stop by for Cristina to change into her own clothes and get her stuff, and she successfully avoids running into anyone as she navigates them out of the hospital.

Unsurprisingly, Villanelle doesn’t want pizza, but she’s okay with Chinese food, so Cristina takes her to one of her (very few) go-to places, a shabby little joint that makes good spring rolls.

When they enter the restaurant, the owner, a plump, round-eyed lady who never remembers Cristina is not Chinese, comes up and asks her something in Mandarin. Before Cristina can remind her she doesn’t speak Chinese, Villanelle answers in fluent Mandarin, making both Cristina and the lady turn their heads and gape at her. The lady, still looking surprised, points at the menu on the counter and says something more before scurrying back into the kitchen.

Her eyes wide, Cristina stares at Villanelle. “What was that?”

“I said we want food for takeaway, and she said look at the menu and let her know what we want,” Villanelle says matter-of-factly as she picks up the menu and starts browsing. “The prawn looks good. And I like chicken with cashew nuts... What do you want, Cristina?”

“...Just the spring rolls. Order anything else you want.” Cristina sits down on one of the little stools by the entrance, thinking she probably shouldn’t be surprised by Villanelle being surprising by now.

Villanelle doesn’t take long to decide on what she wants. She places their order (this time in English), and takes a seat on the stool right beside Cristina.

“I didn’t know you spoke Chinese,” Cristina says.

“I didn’t know you didn’t,” Villanelle says.

“I’m Korean.”

“So you speak Korean?”

Cristina shrugs one shoulder. “I can, and I used to. But I don’t really use it anymore. I don’t have anyone to speak it with now.” She stops, suddenly feeling a lump in her throat, the memory of the familiar voice talking to her in Korean rushing back.

Korean was the language she saved for her father. It was her main language when she was very little (so she was told), but once she started school, she started speaking English much more, with her teachers and classmates, and with her mother. For some reason, though, when she spoke with her father, it was almost always in Korean. Even when they were at a neighbor’s party and speaking English with everyone, he would switch to Korean when speaking to Cristina, making her giggle. He sometimes called her with her Korean name, other times with her English name but in Korean accent. She liked the sounds of both.

After he died when she was nine, she stopped speaking Korean almost entirely. Other than the few rare occasions with visiting relatives, there was no need; her mom got remarried to a Jewish man who didn’t understand a word of Korean and they moved to Beverly Hills, where she made no Korean-speaking friends (or English-speaking, for that matter). No one called her with her Korean name anymore, and she was okay with it. She was okay with sticking to her English name and speaking English and fully committing herself to becoming a heart surgeon.

She doesn’t know why she’s suddenly remembering her dad so vividly or why it’s making her emotional. She must be tired: otherwise, she would’ve kept her composure perfectly as she always does. She manages to swallow the lump and looks away. She can feel Villanelle’s eyes on her and waits for a sassy, teasing comment.

Instead, Villanelle says quietly, “I have a language I used to speak but I don’t anymore, too.”

Cristina looks at her. Villanelle gives her a soft, crooked smile.

“What is it?” Cristina asks.

“I’m not telling you. I don’t like it. That’s why I don’t speak it.”

Villanelle deadpans, making Cristina laugh. _Fair enough_.

Part of her is starting to enjoy learning about Villanelle bit by bit. It feels like collecting pieces of a puzzle. Maybe she’ll find this one later. Maybe not.

“I bet it’s not French. You clearly like it, _Vivienne_.”

Villanelle grins at her words. “I think it’s a good name.” 

“I guess it sounds more normal than your real name.” Cristina says, and gives Villanelle a quizzical look. “Is Villanelle even your real name? It’s not, is it? It’s too ridiculous to be a real name.”

“You’re very rude about my name.” Villanelle furrows her brows indignantly. “And I don’t know what you mean by a real name.”

What Cristina meant, without much thinking, was the name given at birth; but then, when she thinks about her Korean name and how nobody now calls her by that and yet she feels that’s also her real name, she has to admit Villanelle’s got a point. Names can be complex. And, even she can imagine, it’s probably even more so for someone who’s lived as a big, dark secret.

“Okay, you’re right.” She says with a shrug. “I guess I was just asking if it means something to you, or if it’s another random fake name you came up with on the spot.”

Villanelle answers simply, “It’s the first name I picked for myself and I’ve used it for a long time.”

“So that’s the name you want me to call you.”

“Yeah, I told you that already.” Villanelle nods. “Just don’t tell anyone else.”

“I’m not gonna tell anyone else, but I have to tell Meredith.” Cristina says honestly. “I’ll be talking to her a lot about you, and I can’t keep referring to you as Vivienne.”

“Oh, of course, you have to tell _Meredith_.” Villanelle rolls her eyes in mock exasperation. 

Cristina chuckles. 

“Are you sure you haven’t slept with her?” Villanelle narrows her eyes at her.

“What if I had?” Cristina smirks, feeling mischievous. “Would you kill her?”

Villanelle frowns at her, her eyes wide. “Cristina!”

“Too soon?”

“Yes.”

Cristina laughs and Villanelle shakes her head. “So inappropriate.” After a moment, she glances sideways and asks, “So you’ll be talking a lot about me?”

“I think so.”

“Hmm.” 

With a pleased hum, Villanelle rests her head on the wall. Cristina does the same. They sit shoulder-to-shoulder, listening to the sound of something frying in oil from the kitchen.

“You chose such a dramatic name for yourself,” Cristina marvels.

“Suits me, huh?” Villanelle gives her a cocky smile.

Cristina rolls her eyes, though she can’t help smiling.

*

The food comes. They pay (Cristina stops Villanelle from opening the briefcase and pays). And now they’re heading back to Cristina’s apartment in the chilly air of Seattle’s typical cloudy evening.

Last time she walked home with someone from that Chinese restaurant was with Burke, when they were engaged and happy. Or maybe they were just trying to be. She doesn’t really know. She thought she was happy. Burke was a great lover. He was caring, good in bed, and treated her with respect. And more than anything, he was the surgeon she wanted to become. She loved--and honestly still misses--every second she spent standing next to him in the OR, absorbing like a sponge everything he taught and showed her.

They could’ve been the perfect cardio power couple and lived happily ever after.

Except they couldn’t. 

There was no doubt she loved him, and he loved her, too. But the deeper their relationship grew, the more obvious it was that she could never give him everything he wanted. Somehow, she was never enough--or too much. Burke tried so hard to love her as she is, and she tried so hard to be what he wanted, and it just became harder and harder to breathe around him.

“Have you been to that patisserie?” 

Villanelle’s voice pulls her out of her memories, and she looks at the taller woman walking beside her, one hand in her pant pocket and the other holding the briefcase (yes, Cristina is carrying the bag of food). She’s pointing with her chin at a little posh-looking place at the corner.

“I don’t go to patisseries.”

“Don’t be so boring.”

“I kinda can't help it,” Cristina shrugs.

“We should go sometime. I wanted to try their macarons, but they were out today.”

“I don’t eat macarons, either.”

“Cristina!” Villanelle gives an appalled look at her. “You need more practice in _joie de vivre_.”

“Okay,” Cristina giggles, watching the younger woman shake her head as she keeps walking beside her with light steps. 

The truth is, she doesn’t know when or whether that “sometime” will happen. She doesn’t even know if Villanelle will be in her sight when she wakes up next morning, and her chest tightens when she thinks about that. 

But for now, walking home in the familiar streets with Villanelle, she feels safe. With all the unknown and uncertainty, somehow, it’s easier to breathe around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My main intention has been to be as true as possible to the original shows and characters, and that won't change, but I feel the story's taking its own shape and so are the characters (eg. I don't know where the language and name stuff comes from). I'm posting as I write so you're witnessing the creative process real-time--I know, what a responsible thing to do! I'm curious to see where and how it goes and I hope you enjoy the journey, too.
> 
> And if you have any, feedback is much appreciated--it often inspires me. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! xo


	9. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in the apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the feedback/comments on the last post! I'm still a bit lost in the world of fanfic writing, so it helps to be able to check in with you :)) This one is a long chapter for no reason and the girls are getting softer... I hope you enjoy! xoxo

Cristina silently curses to herself when she opens the door to her apartment and sees Callie just walking out of her bedroom. On the way back, she asked and found out Villanelle hadn’t run into Callie before leaving the apartment earlier today, and she was hoping her roommate would be gone when they returned so she didn’t have to introduce Villanelle to her.

“Hey!” Callie calls out giddily as soon as she sees Cristina. She starts talking to her as she walks across the room, all dressed up nicely, distracted by fixing her right earring, “What do you think of this dress? I wanted to look sexy and delicious, but not too eager.”

Before she can answer, Villanelle steps inside from behind the door and says in American accent, “I think you look very sexy.” 

Callie jumps in surprise. “Oh! I didn’t know you had company.”

“Um, yeah, this is--” 

Cristina opens her mouth reluctantly, but Villanelle cuts her off cheerfully.

“Vivienne. Cristina’s _friend_.” With a perfectly pleasant smile, she offers her hand to Callie. “You must be Callie! Nice to meet you.”

“Um, hi. Nice to meet you.” Looking baffled, Callie shakes her hand and glances to Cristina, “I didn’t know you had a friend that is not Meredith.”

“Yeah, I know. What a surprise.” Cristina gives a dry laugh.

She hopes this conversation will be over quickly. At least, Callie looks like she’s leaving soon.

But her roommate stares at Villanelle and narrows her eyes. “Wait. Were you...Cristina’s patient?”

Villanelle just grins innocently. Cristina looks away awkwardly, pursing her lips.

Callie looks at them one by one and says, “Oh,” her face slowly lighting up with a dawning realization. She nods deeply as a wide grin spreads across her lips. “Ah... Okay.”

Cristina feels blood rushing to her cheeks, which is simply unbearable, because Cristina Yang doesn’t blush. She blurts out, without really hiding the intention to get rid of her roommate, “Aren’t you on the way out?”

“Cristina, don’t be rude!” Villanelle lightly smacks at her arm and turns an amicable smile to Callie. “Would you like to join us for dinner? We’ve got some Chinese food.”

“Oh, no, thank you. I _am_ on the way out. On a date!” Callie giggles in excitement.

“With the peds surgeon?” Cristina asks, trying to steer the conversation away.

“Yeah, she invited me to her place for dinner, and...” Callie sings with a seductive smirk, shimmying her shoulders. “I think tonight is the night.”

“Aww, how sweet!” Villanelle cheers brightly, clasping her hands together in front of her chest, and Cristina tries hard not to roll her eyes.

“So I better go. Nice meeting you, Vivienne,” Callie waves her fingers at them and heads for the door, but before she goes out, she turns around and gives Cristina a suggestive grin, “Like I said, I’m not coming home tonight, so you girls will have the whole apartment to yourself... Enjoy!”

“Thanks! Have a nice date!” Villanelle calls out happily after her as the door closes and turns to Cristina, quickly switching back to her usual accent, “She’s hot, and she likes girls?”

“She does now.” Cristina says with a small sigh, relieved she won’t have to elaborate (or rather, listen to Villanelle do so) on Vivienne’s identity.

“Nice.” Villanelle wiggles her eyebrows. 

Cristina can’t really tell if she’s actually interested in Callie or just trying to get her jealous, but she decides to ignore it for now. She’s hungry and needs a shower.

She puts down the bag of food on the counter top and says, “I’m gonna take a quick shower. You can start eating if you want.”

“I’ll wait,” Villanelle says, tossing her briefcase on the couch, and tilts her head, “Or...do you want me to join you?”

Cristina hates herself for actually considering it for a second. Has she turned into a sex-crazed teenager in the past twenty-four hours?

“Um. Next time.” 

She quickly turns around and heads to her bedroom, thinking maybe it’s a cold shower she needs.

*

Thankfully and slightly disappointingly, Villanelle doesn’t try to break into the bathroom while Cristina’s in the shower, and when she walks out of her bedroom in her pajamas, she finds Villanelle has laid out the dinner nicely on the counter top, food taken out of the boxes and served on actual plates, completed with a bottle of wine and glasses, and even two candles, which she’s pretty sure are from Callie’s bathroom.

“Oh.” Cristina blinks at the sight, unimpressed. “That’s...more dishes to do.” 

“You’re welcome.” Villanelle says, sitting on the floor cross-legged in front of the TV, her back turned to her.

“What are you doing?” 

Just as Cristina asks, she turns around holding up a few of Callie’s DVDs. “Do you want to watch a movie after dinner?”

To be honest, she doesn’t. Not really. She _can_ , of course, but it’s just not the kind of thing she would normally go for, and with Callie gone for the night, she was just assuming it would be another night of quick dinner and sex (she didn’t take a cold shower after all). 

But Villanelle is looking at her with so much anticipation, and, well, it’s not like watching a movie would kill her.

So she shrugs and says, “Okay.”

The way Villanelle beams ear to ear like a little child makes it worth it.

*

But first, they sit and have dinner. 

Cristina is starving, and apparently so is Villanelle, so they gobble down the food and sip on wine mostly in silence, except for a few exchanges like “This is good,” “I’ll eat the last piece,” and “This sauce is for that one.”

When the plates are cleared and their bellies full, Villanelle gives a satisfied sigh and hops off the chair to set up the movie-watching space. Cristina finishes the last piece of her spring roll and licks her fingers, watching in amusement the younger woman hustling around in excitement, arranging cushions on the couch and bringing out a blanket from her bedroom. 

“Can you dim the light?” Villanelle turns around asks.

Cristina does so and moves to the movie-watching zone, carrying the wine bottle in one hand and two glasses in the other, as Villanelle crouches down again in front of the TV, going through the DVDs.

“Let’s watch this.”

She turns around and shows her the movie she picked.

Cristina snorts. “ _Sleepless in Seattle_? Really?”

“Why not? We are in Seattle.” 

“Yeah, but that’s like, a romantic movie.”

Villanelle shakes her head as if to say, _duh_. “Yeah, perfect for a date night.”

Cristina had no clue. “Was this a date?”

“Of course, it is!” Villanelle says, putting on an offended pout. “I even put out candles. It's romantic.”

“Is it?” She frowns. “I’m wearing pajamas, and your shirt’s messed up.”

“I don’t care.”

“Sorry, I don’t speak romantic,” She shrugs and offers. “But I’ll sit with you for two hours watching Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan fall in love if that’s what you want.”

Villanelle gasps in shock. “That’s a spoiler!”

“What? Oh, come on. You’ve seen it. Even _I_ have seen it.” 

“No, I haven’t.” Villanelle huffs.

“Seriously? Well, it’s obvious. They’re on the cover!” Cristina gestures to the DVD. “And in those movies, it doesn’t matter if you know what happens anyway. It’s the process that matters.”

She can’t believe she’s lecturing on romantic movies, which she obviously knows so little on, just to put a girl back in a good mood, but somehow, it seems to be working. 

Villanelle looks at the cover, on which the two actors are facing each other, very ready to fall in love, and huffs again. “Okay.”

So they settle on the couch and set about watching the process of Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan falling in love.

*

There’s plenty of space on the couch, but Villanelle chooses to sit right next to Cristina, snuggling up to her like an audacious cat. Cristina is sitting upright at first, but soon, she’s tucking up her knees and leaning on Villanelle, and they’re settled, again, two pieces of a puzzle fitting comfortably together. 

Villanelle is soft and warm, and the fabric of her wrecked shirt is smooth against her cheek. Cristina breathes in the scent of her perfume and chuckles to herself, realizing this is the first time they’ve been this close with clothes on. It is kind of fucked up, though she doesn't mind.

“What?” Villanelle asks.

“Nothing.” Cristina answers, her eyes on the screen.

Maybe it’s the feeling of Villanelle’s body against hers, or the now-familiar-and-almost-comforting scent of her perfume. Maybe it’s the full stomach. Maybe it’s the shower, the exhaustion, or the movie (she has nothing against these two people falling in love, but she has seen it, and she’s just not that interested). Whatever it is, she finds herself getting extremely sleepy, her body heavy and her mind foggy. 

Cristina dozes on and off, leaning deeper and deeper into the warmth beside her. She briefly comes up from sleep once and finds her head rested on Villanelle’s chest. Her body is covered in a blanket, and Villanelle’s arm is resting on her body. It’s so comfortable. On the screen, Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan are looking at each other across a busy street. She dozes off again.

Next time she wakes up (barely), she sees the Empire State Building on the screen and thinks, _Good, it’s almost over_ , dozing back into sleep, and as she does, she hears a sniff and wonders if Villanelle is crying, but she’s too sleepy to look up. 

And in her sleep, a distant memory of her father comes back again. 

It’s late at night. He’s on the couch watching TV and laughing, and Cristina is curled up and leaning on his side, trying hard to stay awake to keep him company and failing. “Take her to bed.” She hears her mom say. She wants to protest, but sleep has taken over her body and she can’t move a finger. Her dad chuckles softly and carefully scoops her up in his arms, and she grins half-dreaming, her cheek pressed against his shoulder, breathing in his scent and relishing in the warm feeling of safety. She wishes they’d never make it to her bed so she could stay in his arms forever, but her bedroom is right across the living room and she’s soon placed gently on her bed between the cold, crisp sheets, and he drops a kiss on her forehead and leaves the room...

Cristina opens her eyes. She’s lying on her bed in her apartment in Seattle. She looks around the dark room in a daze and sees light coming through from the half open bathroom door. Still feeling like she’s dreaming, she slowly sits up, yawns, and gets off the bed.

Villanelle is brushing her teeth in front of the sink, her legs, pale and bare, sticking out of Cristina’s bulky Stanford hoodie. She catches the sight of Cristina standing in the doorway in the mirror, spits in the sink, and says, “I borrowed your jumper.”

“Did you...carry me to bed?” Cristina asks in a drowsy voice, leaning on the door frame.

“Yeah. You’re small.”

“You’re not that big, either.”

“I’m strong, and it’s not difficult if you know the ways.” Villanelle shrugs. “I’ve carried heavier bodies.”

Cristina vaguely wonders which is heavier, a sleeping body or a dead body, but it’s definitely not the time to ask, as she could just fall asleep standing. So instead, she decides to brush her own teeth and totters up to the sink.

“Oh, and I’m borrowing your toothbrush.” Villanelle says, the said toothbrush in her mouth.

Cristina is too sleepy to care, so she just accepts it, opens a drawer, and takes out a new one for herself.

They stand in front of the mirror and brush their teeth in silence. Villanelle finishes up first, rinses her mouth, and leaves the bathroom. 

When Cristina walks out of the bathroom, Villanelle is already in bed, propped up on her elbow and waiting for her. She smirks and lifts the cover invitingly, showing off the crisp, clean sheets, and Cristina dives in without a word. As soon as she’s lying beside her, Villanelle reaches her arms around her and draws her in, pressing her face against her chest, the way a little girl might hug her favorite teddy bear. Cristina just lets her, her body too heavy to resist.

Villanelle gives a contented sigh and gingerly rests her chin on Cristina’s head. “You missed the movie. It was good.”

“I saw some parts,” Cristina murmurs. “I know what happened.”

“It’s the process that matters.”

Cristina chuckles at the echo of her own words. “You were crying.”

“No!”

She doesn’t have to look up to see the face Villanelle is making. She just smiles against her collarbone and decides not to press. It’s cute a former assassin can cry over a sappy, romantic film, and she wants to keep it that way.

Villanelle starts caressing her hair, and it’s making her even sleepier.

“That’s not helping if you want me to stay awake,” Cristina forces herself to speak.

“You don’t have to stay awake.” Villanelle says softly.

“Aren’t we...gonna have sex?” She asks, holding down a yawn.

“I think you’re sleepy.”

“But you said it’s a date...”

“Next time,” Villanelle chuckles. “Go to sleep, Cristina.”

 _But when is the next time?_ She wants to ask. _Are you going to be here in the morning when I wake up? Will we have another night like this tomorrow?_ But it’s too comfortable in Villanelle’s arms, and her hand won’t stop stroking her hair, and she’s rapidly losing the ability to think clearly.

She feels Villanelle softly press a kiss on her head and murmurs in a slow, lispy voice, “I don’t know why you make me think of my dad.”

“...Is that your sexual fantasy?” 

Villanelle sounds genuinely confused, and it makes her laugh, but no sound comes out as she’s already falling into deep, peaceful slumber.


	10. Breakfast Plate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Villanelle makes breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it was either a shorter chapter, quicker update, or a longer chapter, much later update, and I went for the former...  
> Also I just realized this story reached 10K words with the last chapter, which is quite incredible considering my short chapters. Woo hoo!
> 
> Thank you for reading!! xoxo

The first thing that comes to Cristina’s mind when she wakes up to the smell of coffee and food is _Callie’s making breakfast_. Then, she remembers her roommate isn’t supposed to be home and opens her eyes. The other half of the bed is empty.

She hops off the bed and hurries out of the bedroom, and is relieved to find Villanelle in the kitchen, wearing her suit and her hair in a neat bun, pouring hot coffee in a mug. 

Villanelle looks up and gestures with her head toward the plate on the counter, “Morning. I made you breakfast.”

“Hey.” Cristina mumbles, sits at the counter, and stares at the plate filled with eggs, bacon, grilled vegetables, a half fresh avocado, fruits, and two slices of toast. “Where did you get all this food?”

Villanelle pours another mug of coffee and places it by the plate for her, saying, “I borrowed some from the fridge.”

 _Great, now I have to explain that to Callie_ , Cristina thinks to herself as she takes a sip of the coffee. Her roommate is the one who keeps the fridge filled with actual food, not just with Cristina’s liquor and occasional cartons of ice cream. She’s always generous with her food and definitely wouldn’t mind Villanelle “borrowing” some of it (and Cristina _will_ offer to pay for it), but telling her about it means she will know “Vivienne” spent the night in their apartment--as she had advocated. 

There’s no doubt Callie will love it. She can already see the knowing smirk her roomie will give her.

Cristina sighs and picks up the fork to start eating. Then, she realizes there’s no plate in front of Villanelle, who is leaning on the counter beside her with the mug in her hand.

“You’re not eating?”

As soon as she asks, though, she knows the answer. Villanelle is perfectly dressed and ready, her suit jacket buttoned up. The sink is clean, with all the cooking tools put away. 

“I already ate.” The younger woman sips her coffee and says almost too casually, “I’m just leaving.”

Her heart sinks. She knows she shouldn’t be upset. She’s known all along this was going to happen; Villanelle did warn her clearly and explicitly. And yet, it feels like a betrayal. In these past crazy one and half days, she has somehow let this former assassin touch her in the places deep inside her, where no one, even Mer, has touched, and let herself feel safe and vulnerable around her. And just as she was getting used to this strangely comfortable place, Villanelle is taking it all away to god-knows-where, possibly putting her life in danger.

She wants to yell at her and make a fuss, cry and tell her she can’t go, but she’s too proud and too good at self-control for that, and her coping mechanisms are already kicking in.

Cristina swallows down the lump in her throat and says quietly, almost coolly, “So you were going to leave before I woke up.”

“No! I was going to wake you up.” Villanelle makes an indignant face. “I promised to let you know.”

“That’s nice.” She scoffs, looking away. “Thank you for letting me know thirty seconds before you leave.”

“Come on, Cristina. Don’t be sad. When I come back, I’ll buy us a house by the lake and we’ll have lots of sex there.” 

Villanelle sounds so relaxed and unworried, as if she was just going on a short vacation in Florida or something, and Cristina wonders if it’s that easy for her, if these past days was just another fun, exciting event in her dramatic life. But when she glances at her, she realizes that’s not the case. It’s _not_ easy for Villanelle, either; though she manages to keep her voice unwavering and her face nonchalant, her eyes, slightly glassy with tears, are giving it away.

They stare at each other in a heavy, awkward silence. 

They’re sitting and standing just a couple of feet apart. She could easily reach out and touch Villanelle’s arm, or even slide off the chair and hug her, but she’s completely paralyzed and glued to her seat. Clearly, she’s only capable of intimacy after sex or when she’s extremely sleepy--and even in those moments, it was always Villanelle who would willingly put her arm around her first.

And now, Villanelle, too, seems too busy putting up her own shell of self-protection, her face tense and her lips pursed. Cristina misses the bouncy, cuddly person who insisted on watching a sappy movie last night, the way their bodies easily sank into each other on the couch.

It’s Villanelle who looks away first, blinking away the thin veil of tears. “I will go.”

“Okay.”

A pause. 

Slowly and quietly, Villanelle starts to leave, the distance between them growing wider. Cristina watches as she walks away and stops for a moment to pick up the briefcase from the couch. She has to do something, say something, before this girl is gone from her sight again.

“Three months,” she blurts out. 

Villanelle turns around, her face stern and careful, her eyes hopeful--and Cristina knows she has the same look on her face, too.

“You said you’ll be back in less than three months,” she says flatly, more like a statement than a question or even confirmation.

Villanelle’s face softens ever so slightly, and she says, “I did.”

She adds almost angrily, “Alive.”

A little smirk slowly seeps across Villanelle’s lips, as she nods, dropping her eyes. 

Cristina doesn’t know what more to say. She just wanted to say something, anything, just to keep Villanelle in her sight a little longer. And now that she has, what is she supposed to do? Run up to her and hug her? ( _As if she could!_ )

But before she can come up with anything, Villanelle opens her mouth. “Can you take my shirt to your cleaner?”

“What?”

“My shirt, that you ruined.” Villanelle picks up the folded shirt from the couch and shows to her. “I’m leaving it with you. Can you have it washed and ironed and keep it until I return?”

And that sounds like a promise of some sort, a plan of reunion, and Cristina wants to acknowledge it and solidify it, but instead, she gawks at Villanelle’s suit jacket and asks, “What are you wearing under that?”

The former assassin lets out a laugh, and, for a moment, it feels like the shell around her cracks open. She tilts her head with a playful, seductive smirk and pulls the collar of the jacket to the side. “I can show you if you want?”

Yeah, that’s definitely a lot of skin peeking there.

“Nah, I’ll skip,” Cristina shakes her head. “If you did, we’d end up having sex, and I’d be late for work.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“And I’d probably wreck your jacket, too.”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

They stare at each other across the room in silence again, neither of them able to let their guards down enough to close the distance. But the tension is gone, and there’s something softer shared in their gazes, some sense of understanding, maybe trust, even.

“Next time,” Cristina says.

Villanelle nods. “Next time.”

“And--” She adds in a rush, as Villanelle is about to turn to go. “I don’t want a house by the lake. I like it here. I like to be close to work so I can get there fast when I’m paged, so...”

“Okay,” Villanelle blinks, looking slightly puzzled and amused. “No house by the lake, then.”

“Yeah, so...” Cristina sighs before continuing carefully, “I’ll be here when you come back.”

This is the best she can do, the closest she can get to vulnerability for now, and she knows Villanelle gets it as she watches her bite down her lower lip to suppress a grin. 

“But don’t expect me to wait.” Cristina straightens up and points her finger at the other girl. “I don’t wait. If I find someone better than you while you’re gone, you’d have no right to complain. Or kill them.”

Villanelle rolls her eyes and shrugs. “Sure. Good luck with finding someone better than me.”

She shakes her head, though she can’t help grinning.

Villanelle grins back and takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

Cristina nods.

“See you soon, Cristina.”

“See you soon.”

Cristina watches as Villanelle turns and takes a few smooth, wide strides to the door, and, without turning around, slips out like a cat. The door closes, a heavy click echoing in the apartment that suddenly feels bigger and empty. 

And just like that, Villanelle is gone again, leaving her alone in her apartment, with a wrinkled dress shirt and a cold breakfast plate.


	11. Looking Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at Seattle Grace. A day without Villanelle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the long wait and thank you so much for your patience! It IS a longer chapter, as it took me longer to write. I may need a long interval again, as there's some work stuff going on, but the story will go on... 
> 
> Thank you for reading! xo

Cristina knows she has a grumpy look on her face as she walks into the hospital, because, well, the morning has been incredibly depressing. The breakfast plate Villanelle had left was delicious, which just made it even more depressing that she was eating it cold, and alone. It hurt to look at the empty plate, so she just left the dirty dishes in the sink.

She hated changing in her bedroom that still smelled like Villanelle. She hated seeing two toothbrushes left on the sink in the bathroom. 

What makes it worse is, she can’t even rely on work to distract her right now. She’s been without a teacher for weeks since Hahn suddenly disappeared. True, Hahn hated her and was rarely willing to let her scrub in, but at least, with her around, she still had chances to at least observe a cardio god’s work in the OR. And now, even that is gone. She hasn’t seen, let alone touch, a heart for over a week. The luxury she had with Burke of holding a heart in her hands almost every day now feels so far it could’ve been her past life.

She’s walking down the corridor and praying hard for a trauma patient with some kind of urgent chest injury so she gets to touch a heart or at least watch one getting exposed when she nearly bumps into Callie, who comes around the corner with her eyes on a chart. 

“Oh, excuse me!” Callie grabs the chart she almost dropped and looks up. “Oh. Hey, Cristina.”

“Callie.” Cristina says with a little sigh. “Good, I was gonna tell you--”

But her roommate cuts her off with a marveling “Hey, you look good.”

“What?”

“Looks like somebody had a good night.” Callie smirks meaningfully.

Thinking about last night stings, so Cristina ignores her and says dryly, “I borrowed some of your food this morning. I’ll pay you back. Just let me know how much I owe you.”

“What? But you never cook--oh, I see.” Callie’s face lights up the way Cristina expected and didn’t want to see. “ _She_ cooked, huh?”

“Just...let me know the cost of the food and I’ll pay you back.”

With that, Cristina tries to go, but Callie stops her with a wide grin. “Do you wanna hear about _my_ good night?”

“Not really, and I have a round to get to.”

“Come on! I’ve been dying to tell someone, but Mark is off today and Bailey’s in the OR. Can I just share with you a bit? I mean, it was _so_ good, and she was _so_ hot--”

Callie’s definitely not going to stop, and Cristina ends up standing in the corridor trying to suppress the urge to just spin and run away while listening to her roommate rave about the amazing sex with Arizona Robbins and their bright future together for a good five minutes, which is especially agonizing when the girl _she_ had amazing sex with is now gone and she can see no bright future for them in sight.

Naturally, she’s in a pretty shitty mood when she finally gets to the nurses’ station, but as soon as she arrives, Izzie, holding her charts in her arms, looks at her and beams, “Hey, you look good today!”

Cristina glares up at her and snaps, “Why do you keep saying that?”

Izzie blinks. “I...just said it once.”

“Callie said that, too! Why do you guys keep saying I look good?!”

“Because you do? I don’t know, your skin looks fresh, and you just look more...nourished.” Izzie shakes her head. “Why are you upset? It’s a compliment.”

“Because I don’t _feel_ good!” 

“Why don’t you feel good?” Meredith appears from behind them, looks at Cristina’s face, and raises an eyebrow. “Oh, you look good today.”

“ _Stop it!_ ” Cristina barks.

“Geez, you’re pretty but cranky.” Izzie rolls her eyes and scurries away.

“What’s making you cranky?” Meredith asks.

Cristina stays silent, knowing Mer knows the answer.

“The hot girl with a French name? Your former patient?”

She sighs. “There’s more, and we need to talk.”

“Okay. Lunch?”

“Yeah, but no cafeteria. I need to talk to you alone.”

“Fine. No cafeteria.” Meredith studies Cristina’s face and adds, “You know you really do look good today. Did you have really good sex last night?”

She lets out another deep sigh and says, “No. I had really good sleep.”

*

“You never said you liked girls!” Meredith says accusingly, a sandwich in her hand.

They’ve found their privacy in the tunnels, and now they’re eating sandwiches sitting side-by-side on a bed by the wall.

Cristina stares at her friend in disbelief. “Is that the first thing you wanna talk about? After everything I’ve just told you?”

“Why did you never tell me?”

“Because you never asked!” Cristina rolls her eyes. “And it’s not like I was keeping anything from you. I’ve only slept with men since we met.”

“Until her,” Meredith points out.

“Yes, and now I’m telling you about it.”

“Was she your first time?”

“No.” Cristina bites into her sandwich.

“So you _do_ like girls.”

“Fine, sometimes I do. I don’t discriminate. I’m an equal opportunity!” She groans in frustration. “That’s not the point, Mer! This is not my big coming out story. It doesn’t even matter!” 

“Well, it _does_ to me!” Meredith insists. “Because it’s about you, and you’re my person! And it annoys me I made a huge assumption and didn’t even consider the possibility. That makes me feel stupid.”

Cristina sighs. “You’re not stupid. I would’ve made the same assumption about you...” She pauses for a second and asks, “Have _you_ \--”

“No. So far, only men. And now I feel boring.” Meredith gives her a resentful look.

“Okay. Good. Glad we got that out of the way. So can we go back to talking about--”

“Villanelle.” Her person raises a slightly disapproving eyebrow. “Your girlfriend has a dramatic name.”

“I know! That’s what I said, too!” Cristina perks up, and bites her lower lip. “And...she’s not my girlfriend.”

Meredith tilts her head. “Are you saying it was just sex?”

“That’s pretty much all we did while she was here.”

“But you also watched a sappy romantic movie cuddling on the couch and went to sleep in the same bed without having sex.” Meredith reminds her. “And she made you breakfast.”

Cristina stays silent.

“That sounds like a pretty couple-y thing to me.” Meredith ponders on it. “I don’t think I’ve ever done that with Derek.”

“Oh, you’ve gone to sleep without sex. Don’t tell me you get it on every single time he stays over.”

“Yeah, okay, that’s happened,” Meredith shrugs. “But we’ve never done a sappy movie on the couch. And we _are_ a couple.”

“Okay, maybe we did a couple-y thing,” Cristina shakes her head at her person. “But we didn’t make any agreement or anything, so it’s not a _thing_.”

“But you like her,” Meredith says quietly.

Cristina just stares back. It’s not part of her nature to admit to such things easily.

“You don’t even seem to care that she’s a murderer, and you’ve always been so hard on patients who are criminals. You hated that guy on death row.” Her best friend presses her point. “And you were already sad when she left here three months ago. You wouldn’t talk to me about it and said it was because Hahn left and you had no mentor, but I knew something else was going on. You missed her.”

“I didn’t care she was a murderer because I didn’t know that when I met her. She only told me right before she left here, so I didn’t have a chance to be judgmental about it,” She attempts to defend herself. “And she said she quit, so she’s technically an _ex_ -murderer.”

“How do you know she really quit?”

“She told me.”

“So you trust an ex-murderer,” Meredith narrows her eyes at her. “I’m not criticizing. I would probably stay with Derek if he turned out to be a serial killer.”

“You would?”

“I’m just pointing out you seem to like her enough to trust her and look over her past.”

Cristina bites her lower lip again. This is what they always do, mirror back the truth to each other mercilessly. That’s part of their deal, and she loves it but also hates it at the same time.

“It’s true I _was_ grieving over the cardio god. I still am. So I wasn’t lying to you about that,” She says, avoiding confirming what Mer said. “And I didn’t tell you about Villanelle until now because there was nothing to tell, _and_ I was trying to keep you safe.”

“I know. But you just ruined it, right? Now I know as much as you know. That means I’m as likely as you to get killed by some dark secret organization.”

“You don’t mind, do you?” She looks at her person with slight concern, “You’ve put your hands on a bomb and tried to drown yourself.”

Meredith shrugs. “I don’t mind. I’d hate to miss all this happening in your life more.”

“Good. Just don’t tell anyone, even Derek.”

“Derek isn’t that interested in your love life unless you’re dating an attending, so it won’t be hard.”

“Good.” Cristina lets out a long sigh and slumps her back against the wall. “Well, maybe none of this really matters anymore. She’s gone. Maybe dead by now.”

Saying those words aloud makes it feel more realistic, and she looks away, suddenly feeling like crying. Meredith watches her, and puts an arm around her shoulders.

“I can’t decide if she’s good for you yet, but I hope she’s alive if that’s what you want.”

Cristina rests her head on Mer’s shoulder. Meredith gives her a squeeze. They stay like that for a few moments.

Then, Meredith asks in a sober voice, “So, is the sex good?”

Cristina lets out a laugh and shakes her head. “Oh, you won’t believe it.” She marvels. “It’s more than good. It’s _amazing_. And you can go on forever if you want to. It’s like, an endless bliss.”

“Now you’re making me jealous.”

“Doesn’t McDreamy satisfy you?”

“He does. It’s great. But you’re making me feel like I’m missing out on something.”

“Oh, you are, big time.”

Meredith gives her a sour look, and Cristina giggles. Though her heart is still heavy, she's thankful she has this person by her side and there’s finally no secret between them.

*

The rest of the day turns out to be all right, as Bailey decides to let her scrub in with her on a trauma patient with pretty serious injury. Though it’s not in the chest so she doesn’t get to touch the heart, being in the OR gives her the adrenaline rush she needed to get her mind off Villanelle for a few hours.

After the surgery, when it’s decided that someone needs to stay and watch the patient through the night, she willingly volunteers, which earns a half-suspicious, half-appreciative look from Bailey. Cristina is just happy she doesn’t have to go back to her empty apartment tonight (Callie doesn’t count because she’s her roommate and part of the apartment).

It’s the middle of the night, and the whole hospital is quiet. She has just checked on the patient and is lying on a lower bunk in an empty on-call room for a shut-eye when her phone, which she left by the pillow, vibrates. Rolling over on her side, she picks it up to look. A text message from an unfamiliar number. She opens it.

A picture of a night view of the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. And the text says, _Thinking of you, Dr. Yang_.

Cristina stares at it for a few seconds before putting the phone down. She smiles to herself as she presses her cheek on the pillow and closes her eyes. 

At least, she knows Villanelle is alive tonight. And thinking of her. That has to suffice for now.


End file.
